The Reason Most Squibs Have Cats
by Phoebonica
Summary: It is a truth widely acknowledged that Squibs tend to be cat people. One Squib explains why.


**Disclaimer**: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter and the concepts therein, I don't. These are just my speculations, in the form of a fic. I don't _think_ there are any magical guinea pigs in the books, but if I've got that wrong let me know.

**The Reason Most Squibs Have Cats**

The reason most Squibs have cats?

It's because we're not Muggles.

I realise that sounds prejudiced. Maybe it is. But we're born into the magical world. We grow up as part of it. We learn the traditions, the conventions, the whole way of life. We just don't have the _magic_.

So we cling to whatever we _do_ have, and wizards have pets. Hardly anyone actually uses the word 'familiar' any more, but that's what they are. We talk to our animals. We _converse_ with them. We confide in them. We share our lives. They know our moods, they know our troubles, and we know theirs.

There are Muggles who'll tell you the same sort of thing, of course, and maybe they're right, I wouldn't know. The thing is – there's no way to say this without it sounding bad, is there? – magical animals tend to be brighter than Muggle ones.

Let me explain that. There are two types of magical animal, you see. There are your purely magical species, Fwoopers and Kneazles and Puffskeins and so on, and of course your average Muggle dog is going to be far more intelligent than a Puffskein. But probably not as bright as a Kneazle.

Then you have the ones that are more like humans. There are magical owls and Muggle owls, for example, and good luck getting a Muggle owl to post a letter. Magical toads and Muggle toads, magical rats and Muggle rats, magical cats and Muggle cats. And generally speaking, the magical version of an animal is a bit more intelligent, more aware, more – _person-like_, than its Muggle counterpart.

Don't ask me why. Lord knows the same thing doesn't apply to humans. And I've met some pretty smart Muggle animals. A boy in my A-level Maths class had a guinea pig that could do tricks, and as far as I know there aren't _any_ magical guinea pigs.

Which brings me to my second point.

* * *

The reason most Squibs have cats? 

It's because we're not wizards.

Most of us live among Muggles. When witch and wizard children go to Hogwarts, we go to Muggle secondary schools. We live in Muggle houses and drive Muggle cars and do Muggle jobs. Most of us. There are Squibs who live and work among wizards, but doing jobs that a Muggle could do, which in the wizarding world isn't much. Everything runs on magic. Even jobs you'd think were menial, cleaning and mending, there's a charm for. You can't even get a paper round, because the bloody owls are more magical than you are.

So. Most of us, we do Muggle jobs. We work with Muggles. We make Muggle friends.

And we have to bring them home.

In a Muggle house, the photographs on the mantelpiece don't wave at you. There are no copies of the _Daily Prophet_ or _Witch Weekly_ or the Chudley Cannons fan club newsletter in the magazine rack. There's no Sneakoscope that your mum bought you for Christmas because she's worried about you living in that neighbourhood sitting on top of the fridge.

And they don't have pet owls or pet toads.

You can change the photos. You can fill up the magazine rack with the _Daily Mail_ or _Take A Break_ or _Nuts_ or whatever. You can shove the Sneakoscope in your sock drawer. You can't hide an owl.

"But that's different, surely?" you say. "An owl isn't obviously magical." And you're right, dearest reader. It's not magical.

It's just _weird_.

You want to know which of your co-workers is a Squib? It's not the one who claims he saw a dragon last year while he was hiking in Snowdonia. It's not the one who dyes her hair fluorescent green with bright pink streaks for Halloween. It's not even the one who takes yoga classes in his spare time.

It's the boring one. The sensible one. The one you'd never think was even capable of dreaming about a world beyond the one you know, full of secrets and mystery and wonderment.

We can't dream about it. We know it's there. And it kicked us out.

Muggles can afford to be quirky. You belong here. We don't.

You people all want to believe in magic. We have to learn to believe in normality. We're terrified, every day, that you'll find out we're not really one of you. Because where else are we going to go?

_We make Muggle friends_, I said. Depends how you define the word 'friend', of course. Someone you can trust, tell your deepest secrets to? Not likely, even without the Ministry breathing down your neck about Secrecy Statutes. They're not one half as paranoid as your average Squib.

And wizard friends? Sure, if you don't mind having friends who blush and stammer and apologise when they perform a simple Scouring Charm in front of you. If you can resist the urge to scream when you're telling them for the fourteenth time that it really doesn't matter, you don't mind, really. _Really_.

Which brings me to my final point.

* * *

The reason most Squibs have cats? 

You've got to have _someone_.


End file.
